Not every loss was confirmed by an officer at the door. Nor a telegram with the power to sink a fleet. Loss, often the worst kind, also arrived through the deafening quiet of an absence.
Kristina McMorrisWhen I was a kid, my mom once told me that God was an artist and how on occasion Heโd throw a bucketful of paint across the sky for us all to see. I asked her why the paint disappeared by morning, and she told me that if the sky was always like that we might take it for granted. I suppose she was right. Maybe thatโs what war is all aboutโso we can appreciate times of peace.
Kristina McMorrisMaybe heaven entailed more than a soul residing in a single place, but instead having pieces of yourself spread among the hearts and memories of people you've touched.
Kristina McMorris